The Needs of The Few
by KateWare
Summary: The Needs of The Few by KateWare written to the song Falling Slowly (oneshot) Bellamy Blake is celebrating with The 100 drinking, dancing, loosening his guarded walls. What happens when Clarke catches him with another girl? What happens when Clarke thinks he won't remember anything the next morning? /please leave comments/let me know if you like it/check out Broken Kiss/


Bellamy Blake raised his glass to the crowd celebrating before him. It was well into the night and he wasn't sure whether this was his first or fifth speech. He had drunk his way through almost a barrel of Jasper's brew and was feeling the effects of it. All of The 100 dancing and slurring and collapsing before him, were falling not because they were happy, but because they were flat out smashed. This amused Bellamy greatly and he laughed heartedly, not something he would normally do. His glorious speech forgotten, he stumbled down the dirt slope to join the revealers. What were they celebrating? Hell if he knew. All Bellamy understood was that there was a party and Bellamy loved parties. He quickly danced about, looking for someone who would refill his cup with more of that delicious, stomach warming fluid.

These past few days, if he had remembered correctly, had been a real bastard. He couldn't quite remember, but what he did know was that he didn't want to. Was that why he had made it his goal to get so intoxicated tonight? To forget these past few days? Bellamy had somehow found his way over to Katie, a cute brunette with doe-like eyes and spattered freckles. He hadn't spoken more than three words to her since they had landed. In fact, he wasn't even sure if her name_ was_ Katie. Whether her name was Katie or Bertha, one thing was for sure, she was looking _really_ attractive right now. It was funny though, he had always preferred blondes.

"Hey," he said leaning in close to her. She smelled of alcohol and dirt. She giggled uncontrollably.

"Hey," she teased back, leaning forwards then backward again. They were on the outskirts of the celebrations, just far enough away too…

"Bellamy!" chastised a familiar voice, just as he was about to sweep Bertha off her feet. The loud feminine voice, the one he heard every hour of every day, triggered something in the back of his brain. It was something he did not like. If he was sober, which he certainly was not, he would say it almost felt like guilt. But right now, he couldn't rely on his emotions. It would only get him in trouble.

Clarke strode over, took the glass of alcohol from his hand, and threw it over the fence. Bellamy protested vehemently. She ignored him and turned to Bertha, or whatever her name was. "Kat, your boyfriend is looking for you." she said.

"Oh really?" Kat exclaimed, suddenly very surprised, her mouth forming a cute O. Clarke nodded and she ran off, back towards the group.

"Nice going Princess," Bellamy slurred. "You just messed my game."

Clarke snorted. "What game Bellamy? You're pissed drunk!"

Bellamy replied something unintelligible. Clarke rolled her eyes and he felt her take his arm, leading him away from the revelry.

"If you wanted to go this fast… you should have just said so Princess." Bellamy said, amusing himself.

"Save it." she replied through gritted teeth. She led him into his tent and sat him down on the bed. He grumbled and swore but didn't make any move to get up. Clarke began to pace a few feet in front of him.

"We have a problem." she said abruptly.

"Don't we always." he grumbled.

Clarke opened her mouth but for once nothing came out. She closed it quickly and crossed her arms, looking uncomfortable. Bellamy stood, slightly unbalanced, and walked to her. She turned her head and worked her bottom lip which he found incredibly endearing.

"Clarke…" he began, uncertain where this was going. "Clarke, I know that this," he waved to the celebration outside, "isn't your element and you need to find something to keep you occupied, but not every day needs to be a day of tragedy."

"I can't lose my head Bellamy," she replied quietly. "What if someone needs me?"

"Oh Clarke," he said and gently cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. His movements were disconnected from his mind. Every fiber of his brain told him to let go, to say something hurtful, to run.

He didn't.

Logic was telling him to turn his back on her, but his heart was telling him to stay. Bellamy wasn't sure if it was the brew numbing his brain or his own desires. A small part of him was scared of what would happen if he stayed. "You can't do this to yourself, you cannot carry the burdens of our world on your shoulders."

"That's not what you said yesterday." her voice suddenly hardened, but she didn't move away from him.

Damn. He knew he had forgotten something. This conversation with Clarke was quickly sobering him and he didn't like it. He tucked a loose curl of blonde hair behind her ear, his fingers softly brushing her cheek. She reached up and grabbed his hand, holding it to her cheek. Their bodies were so close to one another he could feel the heat radiating off her body, touching but not quite touching.

"Bellamy, you're drunk. This isn't you." she said and dropped his hand.

That hurt.

His eyes darkened and his posture stiffened. He didn't have the nerve to tell her that what he portrayed on the outside wasn't always him. He had lost his true self long ago when Octavia was taken from him and when his mother died. He acted like an asshole because he felt like one on the inside. In fact, he didn't know _who_ he was anymore. When he was with Clarke he caught glimpses, fleeting glimpses, of the real Bellamy.

"Clarke…"

"Bellamy lie down. The party is almost over." she said her voice void of any emotion. A smile brushed across his face. Clarke rolled her eyes as he leaned backwards across the pillows. She sat down, on the edge of his bed, beside him. He studied her strong figure slowly disappear. Her shoulders slumped and she was working her hands in her lap.

"Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream, if I'm in limbo, if I'm still back in my prison cell," she looked over at him. "I try to save people and when I can't they die. That is the worst sort of punishment."

For a moment Bellamy said nothing. He had no answer for her, no comforting words, no grand and glorious speech. He simply reached out and placed a hand on her arm. And Clarke did a funny thing. She lay down next to him, with her back to him. His body went numb, not because he was surprised, but because this was so unlike Clarke to seek comfort in him. That was usually Finn's job. She knew he wasn't necessarily the comforting type, but he took her into his arms and did so anyway. She rolled over and gazed at him.

"I'm so tired. So very tired." she murmured, closing her eyes.

"I know." Bellamy replied softly. He stroked her cheek gently. "You can sleep here if you want."

She nodded against him, breathing him in. His own breath stirred her hair. Bellamy put his forehead against hers and quickly fell asleep. They lay in his bed, clinging to one another like lovers for the entire night, seeking comforting in one another's embrace.


End file.
